Any Other Day
by Paradoqz
Summary: It's Christmas time.


aod Disclaimer: All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin. No profit is being made.   
  


"Four hours! In the freezing darkness!" 

"Did you take Dupont Circle, sir?" 

"Yes! So what? Four hours!"   
The cornered presidential aide cast a desperate glance toward Josh Lyman, pleading for help.   
Having, however, already experienced Sam's retelling of his travails at the hands of cruel fate, Josh   
deftly pretended not to notice the scene and dove into the corridor, Sam Seaborn's agitated voice   
and Charlie's meek attempts to get free dying away. 

It was, however, not one of his lucky days. 

At the end of the corridor there was waiting for him a horror beyond all reckoning. Never even at   
his worst would Sam come even close to comparing with the familiar figure lurking before him. Still   
flush with his successful evasive action of seconds ago, Josh arrogantly allowed himself an illusion of   
hope. Not slowing down his stride in the slightest he made a 180° turn, his mind feverishly   
calculating the possible routes of escape. All for naught. His neck hairs prickled in horror as the   
familiar voice called out his name. As he turned slowly, a passing intern gave him a sympathetic   
glance and hightailed it out of the war-zone. 

The wrath of Toby Ziegler was upon him. 

Muttering a quick prayer under his breath Josh sighed deeply and stormed the breach with wide   
and completely false smile on his face. "Ahem. Toby! I'm so glad I found you! Merry Christ..." 

"What idiot has come up with the idea to decorate the West Wing?" 

"...mas. That would the President. Why? Don't you think it's festive?" 

"They misspelled Hanukkah. On the sign above my office. Not only do I have to put up   
with...this...this...garish display of complete lack of good taste, but in addition they misspelled   
Hanukkah!" 

"Ahm, well, look on the bright side. Charlie had to sit through a three-hour lecture on Kwanza from   
the President." 

"Toby, Josh, I need to talk to you. In my office... What's with him?" Leo McGarry puzzledly asked   
Josh, squinting at the fuming Toby. 

"They misspelled Hanukkah." Josh replied, doing his best to keep his voice even. 

"This is the White House! The best and the brightest! Can someone please explain to me where in   
the word Hanukkah is there an 'x'?!"   
  
"Right. My office."   


The holiday season. The time of sharing and forgiving. Of brotherly love. Maybe somewhere else.   
For Bartlett's White House, or any other White House for that matter, the holidays were a time of   
penultimate stress. 

People were rushing through the corridors, each intent on their own purpose, the feeling of barely   
suppressed chaos permeating the halls decorated with bright colors. The West Wing on the 24th of   
December was anything but peaceful.   
  
Elected by a slim margin, President Josiah Bartlett was hardly the darling of Congress or even of his   
own Democratic Party. Convinced by an old friend to abandon his teaching job and local political   
career in New Hampshire, he'd attained the White House and spent the last two years facing   
challenges of which he'd lost more than he'd won. Many more. 

This bright winter morning, however, such maudlin thoughts were not on his mind. Rather, he was   
consumed by the fervent desire to be somewhere far, far away from the bow tie currently intent on   
strangling him. 

"Jed?" 

"Yeeees?" 

"What in the hell are you doing?" 

Untying the knot, President Bartlett gave the black piece of cloth a long and studious examination   
finally sighing and admitting defeat. "I have no earthly idea." 

"C'mere, Mr. President." 

Jed Bartlett stood unflinchingly as his wife's strong, slender fingers carefully tied the impeccable   
Windsor around his neck. As she stepped back to assess the result, he looked back at her   
ingratiatingly. "Abbey?" 

"Hmm?" 

"You know I love you?" 

"Yes?" 

"And you love me too, right?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Please don't make go out there. Please? It's going to be ugly. It always is on Christmas Eve. And   
then I need to go at that dinner and I just know they are going to sit the German ambassador at my   
table again!" 

"Dear..." Abbey Bartlett nodded firmly approving the tuxedo as suitable and letting the President   
change back in the regular suit, "...you are whining. It's very unbecoming." 

Bartlett pulled off the jacket and grumbled under his breath, "Well, you're not the one who will have   
to listen to that story about how he got to whack the Berlin Wall...for the thirtieth time. The man is a   
moron. And what's worse he's a bore. Just once I'd like to sit at the fun table with Sam and Josh."   
  
"Big baby." 

"Just for that I should return your present back to the store." Kissing his wife fondly, the President   
corrected his glasses and stepped out to get on with the day. 

It was Christmas Eve, but as usual the world took scant notice of the fact, throwing crisis after crisis   
in their lap.   
  


Outside the snow was still falling, The sudden snowstorm came as a surprise, slowing most of the   
traffic to crawl. 

CJ Cregg was valiantly attempting to quiet down the gaggle of reporters who wanted to know   
whether the President would finally open the National Energy reserves in an attempt to drive down   
the price of fuel. 

The Green Room was being set up for the upcoming dinner while Sam was working on the final draft   
of the Christmas speech, the inspiration gleefuly evading his grasp and snickering in petty, gloating   
manner. 

And somewhere in space there was a lost probe that steadfastly refused to make its location known. 

While the streets of Jerusalem run with blood as Israeli and Palestinians clashed.   
  


The evening drew closer and suddenly a pause descended on the White House. As if somebody   
had given an unseen signal, several people disappeared out of sight. They made their way down to   
the basement, to the rarely used part of the perhaps the most famous building on the planet. They   
crammed into   
the small room where the heat was more reminiscent of July in Florida than late December in DC. 

The small desk was carefully moved back as to not to disturb the multitude of papers on it, and   
Ainsley Hayes breathed a soft sigh of surrender. She still was not sure why it had to be HER   
so-called office that was volunteered for this get-together but...at least they didn't wreck her work   
too much. 

The voices and laughter filled the small room as people took a small break, before plunging back into   
work. 

"Four hours! In the snow! And it was dark!" 

"You took Dupont, didn't you?" 

"Yeah, but..." 

"So what are you complaining about? Your own fault." 

"So CJ is still pissed about the Thanksgiving thing and then Toby comes in and says..." 

"I asked Mrs. Landingham. Thirteen times... He sent poor Charlie for thirteen different sets of   
knives." 

Ainsley was the first to notice the familiar, short figure at the door, but before she could say anything   
the President winked at her and touched a finger to his lips. He stood there for a several seconds   
observing the people in the room a strange smile playing on his face. He watched them and thoughts   
run through his head, quicksilver fast -- about the past year, about this day and the days ahead. 

About the fourteen-year-old boy who'd walked down the street carrying the blue-white flag of Israel   
and the green flag of the Prophet and planted himself squarely in the middle of the battle zone. Of his   
friends that had joined him, forming a line of bodies that stopped death. He thought of the images   
he'd been shown just minutes ago of Mars... where traces of water were now unmistakable. He   
thought of the hell that there would be to pay when he refused to open the reserves. But mostly he   
thought that... 

"It's time to open the champagne, people!" 

The day would finally crawl to an end, after other meetings, and dinners and the lighting of the tree.   
There would be other crisis, other victories and defeats. But for now there was only this small room   
full of friends. There was champagne and there was hope. 

And in the end it was enough.   
  



End file.
